2/14/22 Journal: The Baby Butt

Evi and I went to our friends’ house for a Super Bowl party last night. John and Jenn hosted a typical ‘Big Game’ event: great food, great friends, lots of laughs, too damn noisy to enjoy the game.

That last part is probably just me. I love football, so while my favorite team–the Tampa Bay Buccaneers–didn’t make it, I still wanted take in everything. What was that penalty? What did Coach McVay say at halftime? Why is that commercial supposed to be funny? I heard none of it.

I’m not complaining; I know I’m a nut. John, his mother Laura, and I were probably the only ones paying attention for every single play. In fact, Laura and I were probably the only two people to never leave our seats. Though Laura was certainly the only attendee to go through two bottles of wine by the final gun. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to.

My youngest daughter Norah just woke up. Jeez, I was up at 5:53 AM and still wasn’t awake early enough to finish a blog.

She’s stark naked. She’s always stark naked. It’s impossible to keep clothes on the little bastard. She’s two-years-old, has a four-year-old sister named Sasha, and they couldn’t possibly be more different. Just a few examples: Sasha barely eats, is a social butterfly, and wears clothes. Norah devours whatever is put in front of her, ignores all other kids, and strips down whenever no one is looking.

Yes, even outside.

That’s our backyard, by the way. Luckily, the little nudist hasn’t done her thing in public yet.

Okay, my other daughter just woke up. Now I have two little brats crawling all over me, one of whom needs to be wrangled and diapered. See you tomorrow.